


Lime Wedge

by Taupefox59



Category: Being Human (UK), The Almighty Johnsons
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Britchell, Cock Rings, Coitus Interruptus, Established Relationship, Hand Jobs, Handcuffs, Height Differences, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Nipple Clamps, Orgasm Delay/Denial, PWP, Porn with Feelings, Rimming, Wall Sex, mitchers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-26
Updated: 2015-04-14
Packaged: 2018-03-19 15:58:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3615786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taupefox59/pseuds/Taupefox59
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>According to a course in bartending, there are four steps to properly garnish a drink with a lime wedge:</p><p>Cup<br/>Rim<br/>Squeeze<br/>Drop</p><p>What it says on the tin. For real. Read the tags. You know exactly what's going on here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cup

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to Wondertwin and [flourescentgrey](http://archiveofourown.org/users/fluorescentgrey) (It's not the femslash I promised, but that died tragically with my late computer.)  
> You're a beautiful people. Thanks for the courage and the push to finally write some goddamn porn. ;)
> 
> Also, for the most incredible beta [KablamoBoom](http://archiveofourown.org/users/KablamoBoom). Because I sent you a fic for a crossover pairing with characters you've never heard of from two different shows you've never seen, and you still managed to make everything a million times better. 
> 
> Any mistakes left are mine. Constructive criticism always welcome.

Cup -  

Mitchell had been rummaging through the cupboards in their kitchen, contemplating the exact lack of anything edible when one blond god of poetry walked in.

“Why are you all frowny? It’s a beautiful day.” Anders said, leaning back against the counter.

Mitchell turned and gestured to the cabinet he’d just thrown open. “We have no food.”

It was true. The cupboard had a half empty jar of mustard, an opened bag of rice, and a sleeve of crackers that Anders made sure to never touch, no matter what state of inebriation he was in - he was far too certain they’d been there when he moved in.

“So we’ll call for take-away.” he said, clearly not seeing the state of the pantry as a problem.

That suggestion received nothing more than a huff, as Mitchell bent and continued his search, hoping to see that he’d missed something on a lower shelf.

They were both still dressed for work, though that mattered far less for Anders, who had a dress code of whatever he felt like. Usually Anders was of the opinion that the only good place the shapeless, forest green scrubs required by the hospital regulations was in a heap on the floor, but he couldn’t deny that they held a definite appeal when Mitchell bent over and the thin fabric emphasized the enticing curve of ass. He smiled and watched, taking in the view for a moment but quickly came to the conclusion that simply looking wasn’t enough.

Anders walked across the room to where Mitchell still had his head in the cabinet. Stepping in close, he pressed his chest forward until they was pressed snugly together, chest to back, and slid his arms along the curve of Mitchells ribs. He tightened his grip and firmly pulled them both away from the cupboard and into an upright position.

Mitchell turned to face him, “Hey, what-”

Anders cut off the protest with a kiss.

It didn’t take long for Mitchell to realize he could either continue his fruitless search through the empty cupboards, or he could resign himself to take-away and spend the time pursuing far more enjoyable activities. The decision was far from difficult. He brought his hands up to run along the broad shoulders that were covered by a well trimmed suit jacket.

Anders allowed his hands to wander along the lean body in his arms before finally sliding his hands around to cup firm arse, "You just fit so perfectly in my palms."

"That was surprisingly poetic, coming from you."

"I have my moments." Anders said, though his mind wasn't on the conversation. His thoughts were entirely captivated by how much he enjoyed the feeling of trim muscle through the thin fabric of ugly scrubs. He traced all the way down until his fingertips found the crease where rear end met thigh. He couldn't help but lift gently and enjoy the weight of it in his hands.

Mitchell let out a soft laugh. "Find something you like?"

Anders had closed his eyes, entirely focused on feel of the body in his hands, enjoying the chance to appreciate the rounded firmness he found there; the soft swell that belied solid strength, "The only thing that isn't perfect about your ass is the fact that I'm not boning it right now."  
"You know, you're lucky I like you." Mitchell said lightly, at this point desensitized to the moments when the vessel for the god of poetry said things that no one else in the world would think appropriate to actually say out loud.

"You're gonna be the lucky one when I'm done with you tonight," Anders replied, throwing out crude facsimiles of innuendo on autopilot.

"Oh, am I?" Mitchell asked, raising an eyebrow, aware that he might as well be talking to himself. For all that the blond was replying, it was obvious that his attention was solidly elsewhere.

“Something this nice is only going to feel nicer speared on my cock." Anders said the words like they were sensual, nuzzling along the dark scruff on Mitchell’s jaw and clearly not caring about the beard-burn they were both going to get from it.

Mitchell could barely suppress a snort of hilarity. Anders’s version of seduction sounded as if it could only have been learned directly from second-rate porn on VHS.

“Oh yeah, baby. So hot.” Mitchell deadpanned.

Anders began to rock gently against his thigh. “Not as hot as when I-”

“Fuck’s sake, Anders!” Mitchell couldn’t help it, and burst out laughing.  

Anders dropped his hands at the sound, going still and tense. “What?”

Mitchell felt his humour die at the clear look of hurt that flashed lightning-quick through blue eyes. It was hard at times to be with someone so prickly. The most innocent of comments would catch wrong and cause an instant retreat behind thick walls built to keep the world a safe distance away. He  truly hadn’t meant to hurt, but sometimes the line between laughing with and laughing at was too thin to matter. He let out a breath and gave a soft smile as he brought his hands up to gently cup Anders’s face, “Anders. I like you. You’re a good bloke. One of my favourites, in fact, but some of your lines are so bad.”

Anders met Mitchell’s gaze but didn’t relax.

Mitchell could tell that wounded pride would require more soothing. He also knew that he wouldn’t have another opportunity to smooth the rough edges of the moment. If he let it go, then it would get swept away to take seed behind the mask of coarse words and cavalier attitude.

“I’m pretty sure that there’s nothing wrong with sex being fun, Anders.”

“Of course not. If it’s not fun you’re not doing it right,” Anders trotted out the reply with the single-minded confidence of repetition, losing some of the tension that had gathered along his shoulders. This was an answer he could give with complete surety.

“Then you weren’t doing anything wrong, were you?” Mitchell said, raising an eyebrow to accompany the leading question.

Anders frowned, eyes skittering away to stare intently into the living room.

Mitchell gave a soft sigh and started rubbing his thumbs through the dark gold beard, “I like you. That does include your terrible lines.” He continued the soft motion of his hands, allowing time for Anders to take in the what was being offered. When the quiet dragged on, Mitchell knew that this was as good as he could do for now. He was learning that sometimes the best tactic with a Johnson was to simply allow them to retreat. The vampire was over one hundred years old, but he’d be hard-pressed to think of a family that had more practice at ignoring tensions and not dealing with conflict until it all exploded. He knew he could only do so much. Some things ran too deep for Mitchell to touch. As it stood, silence was far from the worst response. Silence wasn’t outright rejection. Often, silence meant listening, even if it hadn’t reached the point of acceptance yet.

It was, however, clearly time to try a different tack. The fastest way to coax Anders down from a defensive display was to push straight back into familiar territory. Mitchell slid a leg between Anders thighs and rolled his hips, “I didn’t mean to interrupt anything.”

That got Anders attention back, “What?”

“You seemed pretty intent on where you were going with that,” Mitchell said, “I didn’t mean to stop you.”

“Oh.” Anders said, flashing a bright smile, “Back to it, then?”

Mitchell slid his thumbs to rest in divots of Anders dimples. He wasn’t sure he trusted that smile. It looked a bit too much like the ones he’d seen given to clients as they walked out after signing a contract, or the ones turned on the world after his brothers had once again walked away. It was too flat and too flashy, all of the right motions and none of the feeling.

“I don’t know,” Mitchell said, scratching down the golden beard beneath his fingers to trace the lines of Anders neck, before following the crisp line of sage green shirt collar to where top undone button hinted at chest hair, “I think that maybe I need to make it up to you.”

Anders raised an eyebrow. “Make up what, exactly?”

“You were planning something that sounded quite lovely. I interrupted.” Mitchell said, dragging his hands down to settle on Anders waist, “It’s only good manners to apologize for interrupting.”

“Is that so?” Anders said, finally returning his hands to Mitchell’s hips.

“Can I say I’m sorry?” Mitchell purred into Anders’s ear with lascivious intent.

Anders breath hitched at the heat of it, “I suppose I wouldn’t turn that down.”

Mitchell nipped at Anders ear before whispering, “Good,” and sliding smoothly to his knees. Nimble fingers made quick work of unfastening trousers and sliding clothing far enough down to have unfettered access to Anders rapidly rising erection. Mitchell wrapped his hand around Anders thighs to brace himself before leaning forward and closing his mouth around the sensitive head of Anders cock.

Slowly, he dragged the tip of his tongue around the head, spreading saliva across sensitive skin. Mitchell closed his eyes and hummed softly, lapping across the head, making sure to flick his tongue across the tip before moving on to mouth wetly at the line of nerves running along the bottom of Anders shaft. When he managed to get the entire length slick with spit he brought a hand up to work the base and closed his lips around the flared ridge at the top. He could easily take more into his mouth, but he was enjoying the feel of the velvet skin beneath his tongue. Mitchell was caught in the hot weight of it in his mouth; the way Anders thighs would shake beneath his hands every time he stopped licking and just sucked, the bitter tang of pre-cum and the salt of skin, the thick musk of sweat and sex and Anders. At some point hands had tangled into his hair, but Mitchell only noticed when the grip twisted tight enough to make his scalp sting pleasantly.

Today, the vessel for the god of poetry was being just vocal enough to give the cues. Mitchell was able to repeat every motion that caused a sharp breath or a sigh, working over sensitive nerves until Anders was nearly shouting, then backing off, but never letting the gasping breaths even out into anything that could support actual words.

Mitchell finally paused for a moment, giving them both a reprieve. Anders looked beautiful; blue eyes blown, wide and dark and shining. There was a flush rising above his beard, and his blond hair caught the sunlight, spinning it through a thousand shades of sand and tan and starlight before giving it back. From where Mitchell knelt on the floor, Anders looked to limned in gold. The sight of it sank straight into his spine. The vampire couldn’t help but think maybe he truly had found a god - broken, beautiful, utterly human, and perfectly divine. He took a deep breath and did his best to sear the moment into his memory, then quickly filled his mouth dick before he could slip and say something stupid like “You’re beautiful” or “I love you”.

Mitchel licked his way down Anders cock, wrapping his lips around the base of it as best he could. He settled his hand fully around the hot, straining length to work a steady rhythm while he took one of Anders balls into his mouth. The salt taste was stronger there, caught in wrinkled skin and teased out as he gently swirled his tongue around the delicate flesh. He stayed there rolling the thin skin in the warm, wet heat of his mouth until he heard moans ratchet up into hissing breath though gritted teeth before letting go and moving to the other. Mitchell only pulled away when he could feel the tremors running down Anders legs.

Tense hands tangled knots into dark, curly hair. “Mitchell, I-Fuck!” Anders tried to get a warning out, but Mitchell took a deep breath and slid all the way down, only stopping when he’d crushed his nose into curling golden pubic hair. He brought one hand up to cup at Anders balls, rolling them in his fingers. He hummed gently and then swallowed, working his throat around Anders length.

Anders lost it at the overload of sensations, spilling into Michell’s waiting mouth.

 

 


	2. Rim

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This bit's not beta-d 'cause I'm impatient. :p (If you catch anything, let me know!)
> 
> Enjoy!

 

Mitchell was on his back, writhing on the bed and nearly sobbing with need. Anders almost commented on the sight, but instead he just sunk his tongue deeper into the tense heat of Mitchell’s ass. He licked his way out before attaching his lips to the fluttering edge of the spit-slicked rim to let out a long, contented hum.

Mitchell choked out a moan. His fingers twisted in the sheets and his muscles spasmed at the intensity of the buzz. The vibration seemed to travel on waves of electricity, shorting out his function to move, to think. His neglected cock twitched against his stomach, flushed red and aching.

Anders paused for a moment to grab the lube and re-slick his fingers. Mitchell canted his hips up, chasing after the lost stimulation. Grinning, Anders firmly pressed his lover’s pelvis back into the bed. He set his mouth back to work, laving across the flat of his tongue against sensitive skin before once again lapping his way inside. He slid one hand down to knead at Mitchells tense thigh and brought the other to move in counterpoint with his mouth, pulling at the edges of the dark ring of muscle. He took his time, teasing, using just enough pressure from his fingers to feel the resistance ease against his tongue, only relenting when he earned another strangled groan. Slowly, Anders slid his index finger in up to his third knuckle, drawing out another needy cry. Working his tongue as deep as he could, moved his finger with slow, steady pressure against the internal walls of Mitchell's arse, making sure to reverse direction every time he grazed the very edge of the vampire’s prostate.

"A-Anders." Mitchell managed to pant out, "Anders."

It sounded like he might have wanted to say something else, so Anders decided to cut him off by grinding into the sensitive bundle of nerves. Mitchell arched off the bed with a hoarse shout. Anders could feel the harsh contractions around his tongue and his finger as his lover’s body responded to the sudden onslaught of attention.

Anders pulled away just far enough to talk, knowing that it was essentially rhetorical as Mitchell seemed solidly beyond the point of being able to answer questions coherently, "Can you get off just by this?"

Mitchell's response was a whine and an erratic jerk of his hips as he fought for some kind of relief from the pressure. Mitchell couldn't tell if he needed more or if he could even still breathe as his body shook with with the overload of sensation; the zing of nerve endings sparking up his spine and the white-hot pressure flooding through his veins. He just. It was just. Steady, building crests of sweet too-much that still weren't enough. He distantly recognized that Anders was saying something, but he could barely hear it over the sound of his own blood as he gasped for air. His thoughts were a broken mess, constantly interrupted with waves of sensation and drowning in the unceasing burn of pleasure.

"Hmm." Anders said, feeling smugly wicked. He kept his mouth close enough to the vampire's skin that the breath from his voice was hot and moist on inflamed skin. "That sounded an awful lot like you want to find out." Anders drew his hand away, and Mitchell dropped back to the bed with a keening moan.

Anders licked his way back in, driving his tongue as deep as he could before switching to teasing, light flicks before adding two slick fingers to mix. He brought them up slowly, first just pressing around the edges, marvelling at the feel of his own tongue through the vampire's skin, slowly stretching at the rim, just to feel the pull of the muscle as it moved. When Mitchell's hips were rolling steadily against his mouth, Anders finally pushed his fingers in, shifting them together as he pressed into the tight, waiting heat. This time when the pads of Anders grazed Mitchell's prostate, he worked it with steady pressure, massaging with the tips of his fingers as the sounds coming out of his lover's mouth continued to slide away from coherent words and towards helpless cries of pleasure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is much longer.
> 
> Also: I have to admit my awe at all those folks out there who can write 60 page one-shots that are *entirely* sex. I don't know how you do it. You're all incredible people.
> 
>  
> 
> Come say hi on [tumblr!](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/vaguetauperamblings)


	3. Squeeze

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently I write Anders as one hell of a toppy bastard. And Mitchell says “fuck” a lot. 
> 
> They’re boyfriends at this point. It’s probably pretty new though.

It started with Bragi:

 

Sometimes, the presence of the god would slip under Mitchell’s skin and make him itch. Bragi didn’t affect him, but the power of it, the other-worldly depth it added to Anders voice made the vampire bristle. Mitchell had theories about how the reaction was caused by vampire instincts going haywire in the presence of a being that was, in all honesty, probably higher on the proverbial food-chain. Though, the intention behind what was being said did seem to matter. Anders and Bragi had helped talk him down from bloodlust before, and it had helped. None of those theories mattered in this moment though. This was no soothing calm or warm reassurance, talking him down and grounding him in home and here and love.

This was Anders purring into his ear like some kind of self-satisfied tom cat, syllables bathed in the rough-slick echo of Bragi, charging the room with predatory tension. This was a god on the hunt, stalking and ready to pounce. Mitchell wasn’t sure if Anders understood how strong the instinct was to rise up against the perceived threat, to press back against the looming shadow, the urge pushing him to step forward and stand firm. It made him do stupid things, like lose control over his words when he really needed to stop talking.

  
  


Then, there was a challenge:

  
  


Mitchell should have known better. Even implying a challenge to Anders was like starting a fire in a dry field. There were only two possible outcomes: the solid relief of managing to dodge the odds, or being caught in the middle of the blaze. Only, this was a challenge involving sex, so Anders had his pride on the line - or, more pride than usual on the line. This could only end in an explosion.

"'M not gonna fuckin' beg for it." Mitchell said. His mouth was plowing steadily forward, even as his brain was scrabbling for a way to maybe take it back; un-throw the gauntlet.

"I think you would." Anders said. The golden overtones of Bragi were laced through his voice.

"You think you're good enough to make me beg for it?"

“I think you’ll even be polite about it,” Anders specified, “You’ll say ‘Oh, please! Give it to me you gorgeous god!” he’d raised his voice to a fluttery, mocking tone, “‘You’re cock is simply divine! I’ve never felt anything better!’”

“‘I’ve never felt anything better,’” Mitchell repeated, scoffing.

"You might have been around for a long time Mitchell,” Anders spoke slowly, bringing their faces close enough together that the thick bronze of his beard caught on dark stubble, “But you seem to be forgetting something.” The next words he spoke directly into Mitchell’s ear. “I love sex, and I happen to be really fucking good at it.”

“And you’ll get me to ask for it.”

“I’ll get you to say please.”

  
  


Which led them to here:

 

Mitchell was lying on his side, eyes squeezed shut and breath coming in loud, harsh pants as he rutted desperately, uselessly, into the tight space between Anders thighs.

Anders traced a lazy finger through the dark, sweat-damp hair on Mitchell’s chest, delighting when he caught the feel tacky feel of cum from his own previous orgasm. It had mostly been to take the edge off so he could truly immerse himself in the task of creating the gorgeous, straining vision that now lay before him. Even if Mitchell could be obstinate at times, Anders had no doubts in his abilities. After all, there were some things that simply should not be questioned, and one of those was his sexual prowess. Even though he’d gotten off earlier, Anders couldn’t deny the renewed ache that was starting to make itself known as the evening continued. He pushed it aside to focus on the decadent tableau he’d created. The cuffs he’d used tonight were a wide, dark leather which gleamed dully in the low light - matching the band snapped snugly around the base of Mitchell’s straining cock, but providing a lovely contrast to the shining metal clamped to reddened nipples.

"You said you weren’t going to beg for it, so if you want to have your fun, I'd suggest you put your hips into it."  Anders said casually. He dampened his fingertip in the rivulets of sweat were beginning to track glistening pathways toward the bed before running a finger lightly across Mitchells left nipple. Flicking lightly over the top of it, he took his time, enjoying the difference between the slick metal of the silver clip and the heated flesh.

"Anders." Mitchells voice was wrecked; it grated out through the lowest end of his register, and Anders thought he could feel the growl of it. If he’d been interested in poetry at the moment, he'd have compared it to the finest Irish whiskey poured over gravel.

But Anders left the poetry to Bragi. So instead he said "Fuck, you're hot."

Anders moved his attention from clamped nipples back to tugging at dark, curled hair. He was really enjoying the way that he could pull at a strand and the movement from Mitchell's heaving chest would pull the hair out of his grasp. It was a fantastic distraction to the friction being created by the near-frantic pace of the bound erection that was burning between his squeezed thighs.

"Anders." The name was forced out through gritted teeth.

"I truly am glad you know my name at this point. It really does make me feel better about this whole relationship." Anders said, with a sunny smile at the panting desperation.

"Fuck." Mitchell finally managed to find words, “Tighter. More!”

"Oh. You mean here?" Anders shifted, deliberately moving his thighs apart, while tightening the nipple clamps by a quarter-turn more.

Mitchell cried out in frustration as sensation sparked and lit up through his chest but let off where he wanted it most. Through it all he was clinging, desperately to one thought: He would not lose. There would be no point where he would beg for mercy. Though, that thought was getting fuzzier as the night progressed.

Anders grinned when the continuation of reflexive thrusting, even when the stimulation slacked off. "If that wasn't what you meant, Mitchell, you're going to have to be more specific."

"Anders." This time the growl in it was so fierce it was almost sub-vocal. No whiskey left, just gravel; rough and jagged.

Anders gave a delighted hum in reply and ran his knuckles along Mitchell's sternum. He knew he was getting close to edge of where he could push, so he took a long moment to luxuriate in his obvious success up to this point. Even if he didn’t technically win, he was going to count this one as close enough to not matter. Mitchell’s eyes were blown, dark, wild, and glossed over with lust. His dark hair was tangled into wild curls where it wasn't plastered to his face with perspiration. His mouth was slacked open and deliciously red. Anders could see the play of the muscles in bound arms flexing against hold of the cuffs in response to the onslaught of teasing pleasure.

It was almost enough to make Anders give in and fuck the ever-living shit out his boyfriend.

He was, however, proving a point. Anders wasn't sure if he liked winning more than he liked sex, but he definitely knew that if he could win by having sex, it was the best possible situation imaginable. It was also definite proof that he was, in fact, a god.

"You look good when you're desperate for me to fuck you." He made sure to keep his tone conversational and shift his legs apart just a little bit more.

Mitchell growled at the movement. "Fuck you."

"I don't think that's on the menu tonight. Next time though."

Mitchell closed his eyes and hissed out a slow breath, finally managing to still his frenetic thrusting.

"Oh, but that's no fun." Anders flicked a clamped nipple in retaliation. He waited a beat to see if he would get any kind of a reaction. "It just takes one magic word."

Mitchell’s only movement came from deep breaths as he tried to regain any semblance of control.

“Are you still trying to win?” Anders asked with a laugh, “I told you. You’ve never met anyone as good as me.” With this proclamation, he reached down and wrapped a hand around the base of Mitchell's cock, settling his fingers right above where the cockring lay snug against flushed skin. His fist was tight, firm pressure, but it wasn't going anywhere. When Mitchell rolled his hips to test the grip, Anders just moved with him.

"Fuck!" Mitchell spat out, arms straining against the handcuffs uselessly.

"That's not what I'm looking for." Anders said smugly, letting his fingers drift around the edge of the cock ring in the lightest ghost of a touch a before returning to his original grasp.

"Nnnngh." Was the reply.

Anders started working his hand again, this time shifting his grip finger by finger, making sure to never stick to a single pattern for too long.

Mitchell was losing the battle to remember what it was he was trying to prove, hanging on by what was left of his quickly shredding pride. His mind was being overtaken with the bright haze of hormones and pleasure-pain that was edging towards the cliff of desperate need. Anders hand on his prick was burning hot and unyielding. He was so close. Every other instinct was being overrun. The white-hot tension of impending release had long since settled low in his stomach, twisting and arching up in nearly unbearable waves, spreading the glow through his very skin at the continued denial.

  
  


It ended like this:

  
  


"Fuck! Fine! Fuck. Fuck!"

"Sorry, that's still not what I need to hear." Anders said, lightly spreading the slick of pre-cum around sensitive head of Mitchell’s cock and giving no satisfaction whatsoever.

"Fuck! Fucking please, alright? Fuck!

Anders leaned over, nuzzling across a flushed cheekbones before nosing through sweat-blackened curls to bite at an earlobe. "That wasn't so hard to say now, was it?"

"Anders!"

"I think I need to hear it at least one more time. Just to make sure you said it properly." He gave a single firm stroke, in an effort to coax Mitchell into cooperating.

"Anders. Anders. Please, Anders please. Please. fuck!"

"That's it!" Anders said, "The magic word makes everything better!" and rewarded the acknowledgment of defeat with a kiss.

Mitchell sighed into it, open-mouthed and eager, taking the kiss as a sign that relief was imminent. He couldn’t help but concede in the face of Anders single-minded attention and skill, hoping that whatever pride had started this debacle would be appeased and relent.

Anders gave Mitchell's cock another firm pull before letting go.

Mitchell's eyes snapped back open. "No. What? Please, Anders, please please please!"

"We'll get there." Anders said, bringing both of his hands up to Mitchell's chest, pushing at his shoulder, moving the vampire so he was lying flat on his back, "We're just going to start here first."

Mitchell gave another hiss and jerked against his restraints.

Anders rolled his eyes at the display and couldn't stop that pout from appearing on his face. "Don't be like that." His tone rang with petulance, but it was clear that the limit had been reached for teasing. Though Anders had been successful in drawing out the necessary plea to win. So. He was definitely a god. Not that it had ever truly been in doubt.

Anders moved to straddle Mitchell, sitting back on strong thighs before giving one last flick to a clamped nipples.

"Mitchell. These are coming off now."

"Fuck. Yes. Please."

Anders couldn't help the grin that took over his face at hearing 'please'.  Moving quickly but with care, he pulled the clamps off.

There was the half-beat moment while the body processed the sensation, and then the reaction. Mitchell gasped and pulled at the cuffs. His arms flexed, shoulders pressing down into the mattress as if to get away from the inescapable burn of returning blood, and Anders felt himself being lifted up as Mitchell's spine arched into a full-body curve, attempting to ride out the overload of sensory input.

Anders leaned forward to press a gentle, soothing tongue to each nipple, causing breath to hitch and stutter. Mitchell’s hips had started rolling again, thrusting up helplessly into nothing.

"I think I like sitting here. I can feel everything." Anders said.

Mitchell didn’t hear it. His eyes were closed, lashes fluttering as his body tried to figure out what to do with the sweet, heated rush coming in from his nerves.

Anders smirked in wicked glee at the sight of Mitchell’s clear, overwhelmed distraction and a plan clicked into place. He slid further down straining thighs to better attend Mitchell’s neglected erection where it rested against toned muscle; bound, red and weeping. Sweat had combined with smeared pre-cum to catch in dark hair. With practiced fingers he reached down and wrapped his fingers around the base of the restrained length, letting the heat and tension from his own hand distract from the release of the cock ring. Keeping his hand in place, Anders bent down and closed his mouth over the slick, leaking head.

Mitchell let out a hoarse shout at the unexpected and seemingly sudden attention to his prick, bucking up into the wet heat of Anders mouth.

Anders rode the motion, then pulled away. There were very few things that the god would rank as more important than giving good blow jobs, but one of those things was his own brilliance. Another would be sharing that brilliance with whatever blessed person is lucky enough to be around when his epiphanies strike. "I really should have tried this before. This is great. I can ride you and I don't even have to ride you!"

"Anders!" Mitchell lifted his head up to glare.

"What? I'm brilliant."

"Anders! Fuck. Do I -" Mitchell let out a low hiss through his teeth. "please. "

"See? It just gets easier!" Anders said, flashing his sunniest smile.

He was met with an unimpressed growl.

"Good behaviour gets rewarded!" Anders continued, cheeky as ever and determined to have the last word - he had, after all, won. He made sure to cut off any further protest by leaning back down and wrapping his lips around his boyfriend’s cock.

Mitchell's head fell back to the mattress with a thump and a groan.

Anders hummed out the smug that would have otherwise become a smile as he fit his lips around the sensitive crown. He licked softly at the slit, before opening his throat and swallowing down the entirety of Mitchell’s erection.

That was all it took. Arching up, Mitchell came with a half-strangled cry that choked off into silent gasps as his brain shorted out under the cresting pleasure of bliss. His body shook, jerking with the intensity of release and relief after being held on the edge for so long. Orgasm rolled through him, taking all coherent thought with it. He was certain he couldn’t possibly contain the strength of it as it twisted through him. It felt as though his strings had been cut, everything that held him in and kept him together dissolved, leaving nothing but raw nerves to light up, sparking off each other, coalescing into a feedback loop of lightning. Every muscle pulled taught, eyes shut so tightly that Mitchell could see the splotches of red and teal and yellow bursting against the backs of his eyelids. He’d snapped free of time to float, awash in endless sensation, caught by nothing except the hazy, dim awareness of continued currents of electricity and heat and white that swamped his awareness. It pulled him under and held him there like undertow, trapping oxygen and thought, breathless and dizzying.

Anders never let up with slick, steady suction, as his lover fell apart beneath him. He had Mitchell deep enough in his mouth that he could even swallow without having to really taste anything, so he was able to focus not choking as cum pulsed down his throat. He kept it up, reveling in the breathy whimpers that were pulled from his boyfriend as Anders worked him through orgasm into the aftershocks.

He finally pulled off slowly when the rigid tension had receded into the quivering twitches of over-taxed muscles and Mitchell sagged back into the bed. Staring at the sweaty, tear-stained face, Anders felt smug satisfaction settle into his bones. He deserved a moment to appreciate the spoils of his victory.

“So. How was that?” He asked, voice rough from sex and mistreatment.

Mitchell blinked at him slowly, eyes still glassy with endorphins. “Nnnn.”

Anders laughed. He leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to Mitchell’s red-bitten lips. “I told you. Good enough to make anyone beg.” With one more soft kiss, he reached up and freed Mitchell  from the cuffs. Anders could feel the pulse racing through the vampire’s wrists.

“Even dead hearts beat for me. I am the best.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lost to insomnia last night and decided the best option would be to rewrite everything I've worked on for the past fortnight. 
> 
> If you find anything widgy, blame a 3:00 A.M. me.
> 
>  
> 
> Come say hi on [tumblr!](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/vaguetauperamblings)


	4. Drop

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has somehow become the longest thing I've ever posted. 0.0

Anders barely managed to get the door closed behind them before spinning and pressing Mitchell back against the wall kissing him fiercely. It was all slick heat and pressure and fiction and teeth.  Hands were sliding into hair, twisting tight enough to sting; pulling ineffectually at clothes, seeking the skin beneath. Anders pushed Mitchell's flannel jacket off before trying to get under the hideous green t-shirt that had been layered over a black long-sleeve.

“You wear too many clothes,” he said.

Mitchell reeled Anders back in by his loosened necktie. “I wear too many clothes?”

Anders bit at Mitchell’s chin, laving along dark scruff. “Yeah.” He switched to teasing bites along Mitchell’s jaw. “And if you’re not pounding my ass in about two minutes, I think I might die.”

Mitchell let out a possessive growl and grabbed Anders by the shoulders, spinning them around, pressing Anders firmly back against the door, eyes filled with the dark heat of lust. Anders barely had a chance to take in the change of position before losing any hope of breathing, let alone coherent thought.

It was moments like this, moments when Mitchell let the lines blur between who he normally was, and the predator that he could be that sparked through Anders like nothing else he’d ever experienced. It was the white heat of arousal and spinning frenetic pulse of adrenaline and the heady rush of pushing farther and tempting the edges. The nearest comparison that he could imagine was some combination of cocaine, strippers and jumping out of an airplane. He tipped his head back as Mitchell ran flat front teeth along the straining ligaments in his neck. He knew that Mitchell would never truly slip, (not with him, not like this, trusted that beyond everything else) but when that extra shadow got mixed in, lining all of Mitchell’s movements with the too-smooth grace of something not quite human, Anders couldn’t help but be swept along with it.

“I meant it fang-boy,” he managed to pant out, “You’ve got one minute left.”

Mitchell pulled back for a moment, blinking back the sex-fog that had settled in his brain. “Fuck. Lube?”

“Bedroom.” Anders said, scrunching his nose. Too fucking far away.

Mitchell grabbed him by the arm, and together they tried to make their way to the bedroom.

 

More or less toward the bedroom.

 

Less toward the bedroom.

 

There was a thump when a head made contact with the wall from the force of a fierce kiss. There was a hiss when tangled limbs knocked painfully into the sharp corner of the end table, tripping over their own shoes as they tried to get them off. A hasty cry of “Watch the fish tank!” when looking for something to brace against to unbuckle bets. They had just slammed into a wall with enough force to knock a picture frame to the floor, when Mitchell decided they could hang getting to the sodding bedroom.

“Fuck this.” He muttered, bringing both of his hands up to the collar of Ander’s lavender oxford, and pulling. Buttons skittered across the hardwood floor.

Anders wasn’t sure if he was more pissed off, because he liked that shirt dammit, or turned on, because, fuck yes! Fastest way to no clothes ever. Instead of dealing with the indecision, he distracted Mitchell from getting their trousers open by grabbing at his dark, curly hair and pulling him down for another bruising kiss.

Somewhere in the middle of saliva and teeth and heat, pushing and pushing - because they were too far apart, had to be closer; there was too much space unless they were breathing the same air - together they somehow managed to undo buttons and zippers and pull confining elastic down far enough to free their erections; the heated flush of arousal contrasting with the cool air in the flat.

Anders thrust up awkwardly, trying to find a position where he could line up with Mitchell’s prick. “Why are you entirely leg.” he hissed out, finally digging his elbows into the wall behind him and lifting up onto his toes to find a decent angle. Mitchell wrapped a long-fingered hand around their cocks and gave an experimental pull. Anders groaned in frustration at the strain of holding the curve in his spine and the so-good-not-enough friction where he wanted it most. He knew he wouldn’t be able to hold the pose. “Y’r too fucking tall.”

Mitchell didn’t say anything, just leaned forward, slipped his hands underneath Anders thighs and slid him up the wall, bringing their hips together in one fluid movement. Anders braced against the unexpected movement reflexively, bringing his hands to clutch at strong shoulders and curling his legs around Mitchells waist.

There was a beat.

“Don’t you dare fucking drop me.” Anders said, tightening his grip.

“‘M not gonna.” Mitchell said, nosing the his pink tie out of the way and licking down the curve of his neck.

Anders moaned at the sensation, unable to stop a whine when the licking turned to suction at the top of his collarbone. He rolled his hips, grinding against Mitchells taught abdomen.

Mitchell finally broke away from what was going to be a truly impressive hickey to raise an eyebrow at Anders. “You want to help us out at all?” He gave Anders thighs a squeeze to remind him that the there was only one set on unoccpied hands between the two of them.

“Show off” Anders grumbled, but he wasted no time in dropping his arms into the cradle of their bodies, lacing his fingers together over their erections and setting a burning pace.

Any thoughts of being dropped had quickly flown from Anders mind. He felt completely secure, caught between the wall of his flat, and the living not-quite-heat from Mitchell pressing solidly against him, the unrelenting pull of suction as another bruise was being created farther along the top of his shoulder. It was all about the electric shocks when their cocks slid together just right, and the shudders he could feel running through Mitchell’s body as their pleasure built. Anders switched to a one-handed grip so he could use his other hand to dance over the sensitive nerves found along the head. He could feel Mitchell’s breath hitch at the change in sensation. It was all too dry, skirting the edge of too much friction. There wasn’t nearly enough room to maneuver, but he could feel where skin was sweat-damp, and the way Mitchell’s fingers would tightened convulsively around his thighs whenever one of Anders fingers caught at the right angle, and it was all rough heat that was almost painful and just barely enough. Anders could feel the pressure building in his gut, the delicious, familiar tension coiling, winding up to snap, and he was determined to bring Mitchell with him.

Anders was so focused, he didn’t notice when Mitchell tensed for a different reason, the grip on his thighs tightened, the wet suction at the hollow of his throat disappeared. Mitchell tilted his head to the side, trying to hear beyond their laboured breathing and his own rushing blood.

“Anders. Is someone-” Mitchell’s voice choked off when Anders seemed to pour intensity into the quickening pace of his hands, and it became all he could do to breath through the pleasure.

Distantly, some small part of Mitchell’s brain thought it recognized the scratching sound of a key in the door. That part was overwhelmed by nerves being set alight from the motion of Anders hands. “An- Anders…” he managed to gasp out, before his orgasm punched through him, stealing breath and voice and all thoughts except bright, sparking bliss and the subconscious command do not drop him. Mitchell curled in to shake through the aftershocks. Anders didn’t let up, friction and the pressure continuing as he chased his own orgasm. It was almost too much for Mitchell when Anders finally jerked in his hands and tensed with release.

Any cry Anders might have made was swallowed by the crashing sound of the door being thrown open.

The sound of it echoed through the house, the door banging against wall and swinging almost all the way shut again from the force of it.

Mitchell responded instinctively to the noise, dropping his hands and springing away, trying to at least get to the other side of the hallway. Instead, he found himself tangled up in the full weight of Anders  crashing into his sex-weakened legs and dragging them both to the floor with a loud thud and a flurry of cursing.

“Ow! Fuck!” Anders said from his position, sprawled on the floor.

He looked ruined, hair sticking up, patches of his beard darkened and wet with spit, tie flung over the shoulder of his destroyed shirt revealing cherry-red imprints from Mitchell’s mouth, and semen splattered up his chest.

“Anders!” Ty called out from the doorway.

“Ty!” Anders yelled back, making sure that every drop of his frustration was audible in his tone.

  
  


Ty took half a step forward to go in to check on his brother when Dawn grabbed his elbow. She stood to the side of the door with her back to the entrance and had her eyes firmly fixed towards the wall opposite.

“What did I say, Ty?” She said, only mostly able to keep from rolling her eyes.

“Wha-”

“I said ‘Knock First Ty!’” Dawn could only shake her head. “Rule number one for checking on Anders in his apartment: Always knock first.”

  
  


Anders was none too careful about getting up, letting his elbows and knees fall wherever they may as he scrambled to get back to his feet, completely uncaring if Mitchell grunted at the impact of sturdy limbs landing on soft places. “Asshole! You said you wouldn’t drop me!”

Mitchell stared up at Anders, mouth gaping. “Are you serious? I - Your brother walked in!”

“So?” Anders said, uselessly trying to adjust his shirt as it gaped open across his middle. “That fucking hurt.”

“No! Really?” Mitchell shot back, slowly gathering himself up from the floor.

“Look. Just go talk to him.” Anders said.

“Me?” Mitchell hissed, “He’s your brother!”

“You dropped me!”

“Extenuating circumstances!” Mitchell said, flinging a hand towards the open door of the flat.

Anders raised his eyebrows expectantly. “You said you wouldn’t drop me, and you did. You owe me.”

“It was an accident!”

“Which you will make up to me by finding out what Ty wants, and getting him to leave.”

“I happen to actually like Ty.” Mitchell pointed out.

“Great! Then you’ll be nice to him when you find out why he interrupted what would have otherwise been maybe the best root against a wall that I’ve ever been a part of.”

“Why can’t you do it? You’re the one he wants to talk to!”

“Exactly. So if he sees me, then he’ll want to stay and talk about whatever it is he showed up here to talk about, and I’ll have to sit there and pretend to like I’m listening when I’ll really be thinking about whether or not you’d still be able to hold me up if you were also balls-deep in me.” Anders crossed his arms and leaned back, acting as though he’d just finished a conversation with a client in his office, which translated a bit differently into his current situation, wearing torn clothing and unfastened trousers.

“Anders!”

“I’m just saying. The faster we get rid of him, the faster we can get on to round two.”

“Right. Because you’re up for round two, right now. You don’t even need the minute it would take to go find out why your brother walked in on us?” Mitchell raised a sardonic eyebrow.

“By the time you get done talking to Ty, I will definitely have had all the minutes I need.”

“Anders. Go talk to your brother.”

“It’s like you’re a vampire of fun. Is that how you survive? By sucking all the joy out of my life?”

“Yes, Anders. That’s definitely how I get through my days, by making sure there’s never anything nice in your life.” Mitchell replaced sarcasm with a hint of seduction before continuing, “Like the round two that will be commencing as soon as you talk to your brother and Dawn.”

“Oh! Dawn’s here too?”

“I’m pretty sure I heard her too.”

Anders put his hands on his hips. “That’s even better. They’ll want to talk about couple stuff.” He glared, “I don’t do couple stuff.”

Mitchell sputtered a bit at the hypocrisy of that statement in light of their own shockingly stable status, “You don’t do couple stuff.”

“Nope. I want nothing to do with any of it.”

That kind of absurdity could only be dealt with by rolled eyes and changing the subject. “Right. What if I go with you? It’ll be two against two. Fair fight and all that.”

“Or I could just play dirty with you…”

“I’m not going to play anything with your brother standing in the hallway!”

“Fine.” Anders said with a huff. He glared for a long moment, “But round two as soon as they leave.”

“The second they’re out the door.” Mitchell agreed.

“Fine.”

Mitchell looked down, taking in the cum-streaked chest and ruined lavender shirt hanging off Anders shoulders, the tie that really only might be salvageable, and then glanced back to the doorway, “Ehm...” He pulled off his green t-shirt, which had managed to end up reasonably unscathed. Or maybe the color was simply too bright to show stains. Either way it was definitely a far sight better than the clothes that had been sacrificed to the heat of the moment. “You might put this on?”

Anders glared at the vivid green fabric.

“Dawn is here.” Mitchell said.

“She’s seen worse.”

There was a pause, then finally a reluctant sigh. “I’ll let you throw it out after.”

Anders reached towards the shirt slowly, “Do I get to replace it?”

Unable to fight the pained look that crossed his features, Mitchell sighed again before agreeing to the terms, “Yes. You can replace it.”

Anders snatched the shirt and had it on in less than a blink, even doing up his trousers, before pointing at Mitchell with all of the confident swagger of a politician at the podium. “I’m going to buy you something nice, and you’re going to wear it and you’re going to love it.”

“You’re going to buy me something unnecessarily expensive and I’ll wear it.” Mitchell corrected.

Anders shrugged, “Same thing.”

“Same thing.” Mitchell repeated, unable to fight a fond smile at his ridiculous boyfriend, leaving them standing in the hallway for a long moment. Upon realizing that Anders wouldn't be the one to make the first move to the door, Mitchell grabbed his hand and dragged him across the flat to invite in their visitors, “The sooner we get them out of the house…” he prompted.

“The sooner we get to round two!”

**Author's Note:**

> I have really only seen the strange bits and pieces of these two shows that I've picked up whilst travelling, so my knowledge of the source material has some really strange holes in it.  
> I am coasting on fandom knowledge to fill the gaps. If I muck something up beyond all repair, please do let me know. ;)  
> (That being said. It's porn. So. Y'know. I reckon that detailed knowledge of the minutia may matter less.)
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Come say hi on [tumblr!](<a%20href=)


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